


Gingerbread House

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Baking, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 06:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28346544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: It's Christmas 2021. James is trying (and failing) to build a gingerbread house. When he enlists Albus's help, baking tips and brotherly bonding ensue.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Gingerbread House

“Argh! Merlin’s saggy left—”

Albus pauses half way to the kitchen sink and eyes his brother. “Are you okay there?”

“I’m fine,” James growls. “I just need to be—Why in Dumbledore’s name will you not— Fuck!”

Albus crosses the rest of the way to the sink and puts down the stack of plates he’s holding. “You don’t sound okay.”

“Piss off.”

“Charming. Have fun then. With… Whatever this is.” Albus waves a vague hand at James and heads for the door. He’s just stepped across the threshold when James groans.

“How does Dad do this?”

Albus stops and glances back. “Do what?”

“This!” James steps back, and Albus finally sees what all the fuss is about. On the worktop in front of his brother is a small pile of gingerbread, a piping bag, and a bowl of sweets.

Albus stares at it all. “You’re… making a gingerbread house?”

James glowers, hands on hips. “I’m _not_ making a gingerbread house. The roof won’t stay on.”

“Can’t you just put a Sticking Charm on it?”

“Dad never uses magic. I want to do it the Muggle way.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

Albus takes a step back into the kitchen. “Because?”

“Because. You’re all so good at this stuff. Baking and whatever. And I’m not… But it’s like Quidditch, isn’t it? If you don’t practice you’ll be shit forever. So I thought…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I should give up, shouldn’t I?”

Albus glances in the direction of the living room, where a new Potions book and a letter to Scorpius are waiting for him.

James sighs. “Yeah, I should. It’s fine. You’re busy.”

“I— No.” Albus steps further into the kitchen. “No, it’s fine. I’ll help.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“Here.” Albus stretches up on tiptoes and digs through Harry’s baking cupboard. “This is the secret weapon.” He pulls out a tube and presses it into James’s hand.

James frowns at it. “What is it?”

“Edible baking glue. It’s like a Sticking Charm but… the Muggle version.”

James shakes his head and picks up a box from the worktop. “But I’ve got the instructions for building it, and it says the icing should be enough.”

“James?” Albus rests a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Trust me. The instructions are a lie. This will fix everything.”

“A Muggle baking glue?”

“Promise.”

James studies him for several seconds, then he turns the tube of glue over and over in his hands. “Isn’t it cheating?”

Albus shakes his head. “Remember when Dad and Draco had that gingerbread competition and Dad built the gingerbread Hogwarts?”

James gazes misty-eyed into the distance and sighs. “The Astronomy Tower tasted so good…”

“Right. Well. He built that using this stuff. And that wasn’t cheating, was it?”

“It was so crunchy. And the spices… Merlin.”

Albus rolls his eyes. “Glad you agree with me. So you can use it for this too. Pass me the instructions?”

James hands him the box without pausing for breath. “Do you remember those little windows, made out of the melted sweets? And the crushed Pepper Imps for the shores of the lake. And the marzipan Giant Squid!”

“Yes, yes. I remember. And maybe once we’re done with this, you can graduate to making your own gingerbread Hogwarts. But let’s start with the basics. Have you already massaged the—”

“The icing? Yes! Look, I started piping already.” James holds up one of the rectangles of gingerbread. A wobbly white line of icing runs down the edge, occasionally straying off one side of the other. “That’s the problem. It wasn’t sticky enough.”

“And it’s not exactly straight.”

James glares at him. “And you can do better?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmph. Sure you can.”

“Give me that.” Albus plucks the edible glue from James’s hand and uncaps it. He pipes a perfectly straight line from top to bottom. “See?”

James stares at him. “That’s impossible.”

Albus shrugs. “You said it’s like Quidditch. Practice makes perfect. I’ve done that a lot, just like you’ve caught a million Snitches. Give me the other wall?”

James hands it over, still staring.

“Thanks. Look, now you use this tray thing you’ve been neglecting, and it holds them together, see?”

“This is madness. It’s like another world.”

“You should let Scorpius show you some episodes of Great British Bake Off. It’ll blow your mind.” Albus pipes another perfect line of baking glue. “Pass me another wall?”

James does it. “The box says this is for kids aged 5+. I think it lied.”

“I mean you’ve got the mental age of a three year old, but— Here we go.” Albus presses the last wall in place and spins the tray round. “Ta-da. Now. Let’s try the roof. Then you can practice your piping skills.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Like you said, you have to start somewhere. But if you’re worried, try this.” Albus slides a clean plate across to him. “Pipe some lines or squiggles or whatever. It’ll help you get the hang of it.”

“Can’t you just do it?”

“James.” Albus nudges the plate closer. “I know you like being perfect, but you can’t be flawless at everything straight away. Make a mess. Pretend I’m not watching.”

James hesitates, then pulls the plate towards him and blocks it with his body. Albus watches as he picks up the piping bag, then he goes back to sticking the bits of roof together.

“I’m not, you know.”

Albus glances up as he carefully holds one of the roof sections in place until it dries. “Not what?”

“Perfect. I’m really not.”

Albus snorts. “Could have fooled me.”

“That was sort of the point.” James pokes the tip of his tongue out as he draws a wavering, broken line of icing across the plate. When he’s done he sighs and shakes his head. “Everyone always expected me to be. And I-I guess I got quite good at pretending. But really? I can fly. I’m sort of okay at Charms—”

“You got an Outstanding O.W.L. in Charms.”

“Fine. I’m very good at Charms. But nothing else. It’s all smoke and mirrors, and… I don’t know.” He draws another line across the plate, then slumps his shoulders and turns to Albus. “You and Dad have both saved the world. Mum too. And now you’ve stopped yelling at each other every two seconds you get on like a broom on fire. You even somehow learned to bake. You’re like… competent. And brave. And – Merlin I hate saying this but – you’re kind of a legend. Roisin Finnigan keeps asking if I can get her your autograph. She’s obsessed with you. And to think I used to fancy her. Terrible taste. Anyway. The point is, I’ve got nothing on you. And I’m not even close to perfect. So yeah… That.”

Albus stares at him. He doesn’t even know where to begin with replying. Thankfully, James doesn’t seem to expect a reply. He squeezes more icing up from the bottom of the bag and goes back to his piping.

The next line is steadier, barely a waver in it, and it only breaks once. The one after that is a bit shaky, but it stretches all the way across the plate.

“That- That’s good,” Albus murmurs. “Keep it just like that.”

“Like this? Oh, Merlin’s pants. Hang on. Like this.”

Another line, quicker and more confident.

“That’s it!”

“I think I get it. Can I glue the next bit of roof?”

“Sure.” Albus holds it for him, trying to keep his head out of the light so James can see. “Make sure you go all the way to… There we go.”

James glues each side, a frown creasing his forehead, but when he’s done his expression blossoms into a bright smile. “I did it! Will it stick?”

Albus gently presses the section of roof into place and holds it to dry. “Yes it will. See?” He takes his hands away and the house stays rock solid.

“Merlin. It actually worked.”

Albus laughs. “Muggles have some pretty genius ideas. And now you…” He slides the house towards James. “…get to decorate it.”

James gently spins the house round. “This is a big responsibility.”

Albus smirks. “If you do a good enough job, Roisin Finnigan might ask for your autograph.”

“You little— Come here!” James abandons the house, grabs Albus in a headlock, and ruffles his hair. “I told you that in confidence! You don’t get to use it against me for the rest of time.”

Albus writhes around, trying to break free, but James’s grip is too strong. “Argh! You’re… strangling… me…”

“Promise you’ll forget about Roisin Finnigan.”

“I can’t… breathe…”

“Promise.”

“I… promise! Now get off me.”

James releases him, glowering. “You’re fine.”

“My hair’s not.”

“Doesn’t look any different to normal.”

“Do you want me to duel you? Because I will.”

James holds his hands up. “Sorry, no no. I’ll be good. Your hair looks very… Well. It is what it is. And it always worked for Dad, so.”

Albus glares at him. “What was that about being good?”

“Sorry. Force of habit. So back to this house…”

“Yes. The house. How about you do the piping and I’ll sort the sweets?”

“Good deal.”

In companionable silence, they set about their jobs. James decorates the roof with iced lines in a tile pattern, while Albus sorts the sweets into piles of white sugar snowflakes, and red and green jelly beans – the tasty Muggle kind.

“The world wouldn’t have needed saving if I hadn’t fucked it up, you know,” he murmurs as he adds a few more jelly beans to the pile. “It turned out well but it might not have done. It’s like Dad always says. It’s a lot of luck and trying not to die. And… and the rest of it… I think that’s my point. It took all that for me and Dad to work out how to talk to each other. All those arguments and misunderstandings. It didn’t come from nowhere. It took practice.”

“Really loud practice.”

Albus bows his head. “Right. And… It was all a mess. It still is a mess. Everything is. I’m not a legend. I don’t know what I’m doing. I mean, maybe I do when I’m baking, but only cause Dad taught me and Granny Weasley taught him. The rest of it? If I’m competent it’s because I’m pretending. And if I’m brave it’s… it’s probably because I don’t know any better.”

“Well, you do a really good job of pretending.” James finishes the roof and steps back to compare it to the box. “This isn’t too bad. Do you reckon I could manage these icicles?”

Albus shoots him a smile. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

James grins back. “Here goes nothing.”

Fifteen minutes later, they lean side-by-side against the kitchen table and examine their handiwork. The house, first and foremost, still standing. The roof is attached to the walls and the walls are upright. And beyond that, it’s resplendent. Red and green jelly beans stud the roof and the edges of the door. Little sugar snowflakes highlight the eaves and the windows. And a fine dusting of icing sugar courtesy of Harry’s baking cupboard gives the whole thing a snow-glazed finish. It’s quite impressive – even if Albus does say so himself.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“I think…” James turns to Albus. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Albus shakes his head. “Don’t be silly. You did the hard bits.”

“Yeah, but you knew about the baking glue.”

Albus shrugs. “Just passing on a little secret. It was nothing.”

“Nothing is still something.” He takes a breath. “Albus… you might think you’re pretending to be competent, and that you’re brave because you don’t know any better, but the truth is that you _are_ competent, and you _are_ brave, and you _are_ a legend. Even if you don’t feel like it.”

Albus twists his hands together, then he looks up at his brother. “So are you. And we’ll make a baker of you yet. Will you help me and Dad with the Christmas cake tomorrow?”

James blinks at him. “Isn’t that a bit… ambitious?”

Albus shrugs. “I am a Slytherin.”

“ _You_ are. I’m a Gryffindor.”

“Then be courageous. I’ve seen you take a Bludger to the face. I think you can handle a Christmas cake.”

James swallows. “Are you sure?”

“Completely.” Albus looks back at the gingerbread house again. It looks even better than the picture on the box. “This really is amazing. You’ve done a brilliant job. Dad will be dead impressed.”

“Do you think?”

“I know.” Albus steals one of the leftover jelly beans and heads for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning for Christmas cake lessons. Have a good afternoon!” He tosses the jelly bean into the air and catches it in his mouth. As he sets off down the corridor, he just – out of the corner of his eye – sees James grinning to himself.

His own smile catches light as he returns to his seat in the living room and picks up his parchment and quill.

_Dear Scorpius,_

_You’ll never guess what just happened…_


End file.
